Community leader questions lack of pay from police

Justin Fenton, The Baltimore Sun

Every week for nearly a year, Sonnie Jones visited the Baltimore Police Academy to help put on a demonstration about how officers could better interact with residents in the city's crime-ridden neighborhoods.

Though the demonstrations could become heated, officers often ended up thanking him for his perspective. But while his participation in the in-service training was always on a volunteer basis, he now wonders whether the city took advantage of his good will, in light of reports that guest speakers and non-law enforcement consultants were paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to participate in other police training.

"I guess that was my naivete," said Jones, 56. "I've been a volunteer since 1980, and I don't have a problem continuing to do that, but what's fair is fair. They said they had no money."

Not everyone agrees with Jones that community volunteers were entitled to compensation. Jack Baker, president of the Southern District Police Community Relations Council, also participated in the in-service training sessions and said it was part of his civic duty.

"Any citizen that came in did so on their own. They're not consultants — they were just being neighbors," Baker said. "I wouldn't give [Jones] a nickel."

Jones contacted The Baltimore Sun last week after reading that police were not renewing a contract that paid $600,000 over three years to Adam Walinsky and his nonprofit Center for Research on Institutions and Social Policy to help shape the agency's Diamond Standard Training. That 28-day program was separate from the in-service training at the academy.

Walinsky, a retired attorney and founder of the now-defunct Police Corps program, had said publicly he didn't receive a salary from the center. He called his work a public service, but he confirmed information from his foundation's tax documents that show he spent tens of thousands of dollars taking commanders to dinner, which he said was to discuss training.

Most of the consultants Walinsky contracted to speak to officers had military backgrounds and were paid between $500 and $5,000 for each training session. Hans Hageman, a former attorney and nonprofit director who is listed as an unpaid treasurer of Walinsky's foundation, taught "nonverbal communication" and "leadership skills" at a rate of $5,000 per session, invoices show.

Experts familiar with police training programs say the expenditures were in line with the costs of bringing in consultants.

Police spokesman Anthony Guglielmi said the Diamond Standard Training program that Walinsky was paid to coordinate was more "intensive" and specialized than the in-service training that community members participated in. Diamond Standard Training participants had professionalqualifications to justify the payments, he added.

Guglielmi thanked Jones for his contributions: "Without people like him stepping up and volunteering their time, we wouldn't be able to achieve the results that we have."

Marcus "Strider" Dent of the Baltimore Guardian Angels said he also voluntarily attended the in-service training and would do so in the future, but he understands Jones' frustration. "We would've done it with or without pay, but, don't get me wrong, money would've been a plus," Dent said.

State Sen. Catherine E. Pugh adopted Jones' work as part of her crime-fighting strategy during her failed mayoral bid last year, and said Friday that he shouldn't be viewed as just another community volunteer.

"I do a lot of volunteering myself, but I think this is different," Pugh said. "If you look at what he's doing and the hours he spends with them, he has a whole training plan and should be viewed as someone with a certain amount of expertise."

Jones, an engineer who has been sidelined by an injury for the past two years, acknowledged that he did not seek money for his part in the in-service training, which began in January 2011, until later in the year.

Dent said the community sessions initially did not go well. "You had maybe 50 to 100 officers in a room, and we were telling them that citizens were real people and that they had become desensitized to that," Dent said. "It often got heated, and the community volunteers were so intimidated that the only two people who would show up were the Guardian Angels and Sonnie Jones."

After a year, the session was canceled.

The session "was probably the most beneficial thing we could've done that year," Dent said. "I found it beneficial on both sides of the table, and I don't think the people upstairs in the Police Department were paying attention."

Jones said he's been serving his community as a volunteer for decades while raising five sons. He's focused on teaching citizens how to interact with police to avoid confrontation, while explaining to officers the dangers of stereotypes and importance of courtesy. He calls his program "Choices and Consequences."

Jones has not been able to make any money from his efforts, but he is hopeful. He has letters of recommendation from officers he worked with. Among them is a letter from Sgt. Stephanie Lansey, who coordinated the in-service training and wrote that he "opened officers' minds" and "after every session, officers lined up to express their gratitude to Mr. Jones."

Jones hopes to persuade legislators or the school system to back his program, but in the meantime he will continue to work free of charge. "I know this is something that is needed," he said.